


Window of Inspiration

by SasstrianPrissess



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, And those lovely feels that just love to kill us all, Antonio Carriedo - Freeform, Arthur Kirkland - Freeform, But also rated for pessimistic thoughts, Francis Bonnefoy - Freeform, Hospital, Human Names Used, INSPIRATIONAL, M/M, Nikolai Arlovskaya - Freeform, Pro-Suicidal Romano, Rated for Romano's mouth, Romano L. Vargas, Terminal Illnesses, This is that sort of fanfic, Window, blind, gilbert beilschmidt - Freeform, matthew williams - Freeform, mostly - Freeform, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SasstrianPrissess/pseuds/SasstrianPrissess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A window brings about wonderful opportunities, but what one sees through a window is always left up to interpretation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Window of Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a small little piece I found one day while surfing Facebook many weeks ago. When I first saw it, I thought it to be so wonderful that I'd like to write something similar, but never got around to it until today. I hope that you too, will enjoy it. Warnings are in the tags. So... if anything offends you, then do not read, and here is one more warning: If you bash anything within this story, then I will send Spain after you with his axe.

**May 19, 2015**

Day 1

 

* * *

 

Living with a terminal illness can be a stressful venture. Those who were permanent residents at St. John's (which is short for  _ **St. John of God Hospital**_ ), knew nothing more than to just twiddle their thumbs and wait. One such resident was a young Italian man by the name of Romano L. Vargas, however, unlike the many residents who still held hope that they would be cured and be able to go home, he was rather pessimistic.

He knew that he was not ever going to leave, that sort of hope had been smothered during his first visit to the hospital when he had been admitted as a terminally ill patient. Today marked the fifth month anniversary he had been staring up at sterile, white tiled ceilings, counting the decorative markings that ran throughout each tile. Approximately, there were six thousand, seven hundred and ninety-eight little holes and about nine hundred and thirty-four tan stripes streaked all across one particular tile.

A wry grimace tugged at the corner of his lips, his right arm was draped over his stomach- rising and falling with each breath as he inhaled and exhaled. A solid beep followed each inhale, making Romano conscious of his ever dwindling heartbeat. He was currently at a steadily dropping ninety over sixty. At each beep, his left eye twitched in annoyance, a suppressed groan also left his lips. In all honesty, he wished the damn heart monitor would stop making that annoying sound.

Romano knew he was going to die, he didn't need the constantly beeping machine to keep reminding him. His empty room was a reminder of just how utterly alone he was in the world. No one had come to visit him during the past three months, not even his brother, Veneziano, who moved too far away to even try anymore.

Being a stage three patient was just a pain that Romano wanted to end.

 

* * *

 

 

It was nearing three when the quiet, soft spoken nurse named Matthew approached Romano for his daily check up, this time, the nurse stayed a bit longer than usual. That did not really bother the Italian, what really bothered him was the new information the Canadian spoke with a bit of hesitation. After all, it was because of this hesitant way of speaking that Romano even tolerated the him.

"Romano, later today," Matthew chatted, tucking a bit of his long, honey blond hair behind an ear as he wrote the subtly changing signs of the Italian's prone form upon the purple clipboard he tended to carry, the one with a giant sticker of a sunflower on the back, "You will be receiving a new roommate for a little bit. Don't you think that will be good? You'll finally have someone new to talk to besides me."

"Hmph," Romano huffed, not in the mood to ever speak more than necessary. If it was not to tell him that he had less than five minutes left to live, then he didn't think it would be worth his time to even bother voicing his opinion on anything else, "whatever." He mumbled after a minute, turning his face away from the nurse to stare at the windowsill he could never see over.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, Matthew and two more nurses; who introduced themselves briefly as Nikolai and Arthur, wheeled in the new roommate Romano was to share his room with. Just like him, the new roommate was terminally ill, but unlike the dismal Italian, the new guy...was happy.  _Disgustingly_ happy.

"Hola, amigo! Mi nombre es Antonio Carriedo!"

Great. That was all he needed, some Spanish speaking airhead who acted as if he were given the god given cure to all that ails the sick and pained. Romano suppressed a loud groan, turning his head away from the Spaniard to face the closed door. It honestly made Romano a bit sick to even glance at the cheery, ear to ear splitting smile. The kind of smile Antonio wore was one that was so grand it made his eyes close just to be used as an expression. It made Antonio look ridiculously stupid, but what irritated Romano the most was that the Spaniard was given the bed closest to the same window that the Italian had been trying to see out of for five months. Now that  ** _that_** was taken away from him, Romano spent the remainder of the day sulking and staring either at the ceiling or at the door from out the corner of his eye. There was no way he'd ever speak to Antonio, much less acknowledge the Spaniard, because he knew that if he were to attempt to get to know the idiot, he'd get close, but with knowing that they both were terminal...

Yeah, ignorance is definitely bliss, Romano decided, shifting a bit to face even more of the door. He let out a heavy sort of sigh, closing his eyes and concentrating on trying to drop his heart rate further. Antonio, though, seemed pretty keen on grating the Italian's nerves by quietly humming some sort of Spanish ballad...concerning tomatoes? Beneath closed lids, Romano rolled his eyes, tucking himself further beneath the heavy hospital sheets as he drifted off into another one of his dreamless naps, the sound of Antonio's voice masking the harsh beeping of the heart monitor.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the link to the story that inspired this particular little piece: http://www.toinspire.com/Stories/Inspirational%20Stories.html
> 
> St. John of God is the patron saint of: Booksellers, Firefighters, Heart patients, Hospitals, Nurses, Printers, and the Sick; http://www.americancatholic.org/Features/Saints/saint.aspx?id=1316
> 
> Translation:  
> Spanish:  
> "Hola, amigo! Mi nombre es Antonio Carriedo" | "Hello, my friend! My name is Antonio Carriedo."


End file.
